


Whiskey Kisses

by RedTeamShark



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Author Chose Not To Tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-07 07:33:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16849816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedTeamShark/pseuds/RedTeamShark
Summary: The only time I drink alcohol is when I kiss him.





	Whiskey Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Proper warnings, tags, etc, may come in the future. For the time being I'm frantically transferring my content to a stable platform amidst growing concerns about tumblr's inevitable implosion.
> 
> Apologies for flooding the fandom page.

So maybe it’s wrong to be dating my boss.

I mean, whatever, no one really has a problem with it and we keep our dating life and professional lives separate, even more so than other couples at work. We don’t do anything really couple-y on camera, don’t talk about it… pretty much nothing about ourselves on camera has changed since we got together. Sometimes we’ll leave work together in his car for lunch or in the evening, and sometimes I’ve got hickeys that he refuses to stop staring at (or making worse during lunch breaks, the asshole). But we keep it fairly under wraps, fairly private. Our lives are so public, it’s nice to have a little bit of privacy now and then.

The only thing we really do at work is kiss whenever we’re alone, a rare enough event as it is. But sometimes everyone else will leave and Geoff will pull me against his chest, hold my face in his hands and lean down to kiss me, a light peck on the lips. Or he’ll shut the office door and pull me into his lap on the couch, holding my hips while I brace my hands on his shoulders and lean down to kiss him, usually open-mouthed and lasting as long as we feel we can get away with. He’ll pepper little kisses and bites along my neck and jaw, moving up to whisper in my ear or I’ll slip up behind him, wrap my arms around his waist and plant a kiss on the back of his neck before resting my forehead there, waiting for him to turn around.

The only time I drink alcohol is when I kiss him.

Kissing Geoff is the only way I can stand the taste, the mix of whiskey or rum or bourbon or whatever else he’s been drinking that day with the unique taste that is my boyfriend. Sometimes he’ll do a shot just before pulling me in for a kiss, which I swear he does just so he can claim he’s talented enough to make me seem drunk just from a kiss. And other times I’ll make him stop and go brush his teeth before agreeing to let his tongue into my mouth, because seriously, a guy can only handle so much secondhand alcohol.

My favorite ones are his whiskey kisses, though.

They’re stronger than most of the others, more forceful. They’re the kind of kisses that make me think of him pinning my wrists together with one of his hands, holding me against the wall and putting his other hand wherever he wants to, up my shirt or in my shorts, his mouth on mine silencing any protests that I might have. Geoff’s whiskey kisses make me think of being held in his lap with his mouth on my neck and his hands running up and down my spine, following the curve of my spine when I arch my back. They make me think of lying shirtless in his bed while his fingertips trace patterns across my stomach that almost tickle and his lips lazily travel from my jaw to my mouth to my collarbone. Whiskey kisses pull up the idea of direct eye contact, of control and willing submission, of something so sexual and raw that I’m usually left breathless even from the slightest peck of his whiskey-flavored lips.

Granted, I’m never going to tell him that. If he found out what his whiskey kisses do to my head, I know exactly what he’d do.

First he’d laugh, then he’d try to cover it up, then he’d say something like “Don’t worry, Ray, I won’t use that against you” and wink like an asshole. And then he’d switch to drinking whiskey all the time.

It’s not so much that I mind having such a weakness to him. It’s more that I don’t want his whiskey kisses to lose their appeal by becoming commonplace.

Also, it’s more fun if I don’t tell him, if I say that something he does leaves me breathless and leave it at that. It’ll drive him nuts trying to figure it out, after all.


End file.
